Logs:Extralegal Justice

Extralegal Justice
Dramatis Personae Shane, Tian-shin
In Absentia	2023-10-09 "Ion taught me the difference between respect and respectability."
Location <NYC> Freaktown - Riverdale
It's a crisp fall day, and Freaktown should be bustling. The town square has dwindled somewhat in size; many of the mutants who used to come in for the day to set up shop and sell or barter their crafts and services have not been spending time here, but plenty of actual residents still make use of the informal marketplace. The blacktop in the cul-de-sac still bears the scars of Yom Kippur, the surface melted into odd smoothness and haloed rays of glass forever fused into the asphalt in glittering-streaked silhouette around the outline of the body that was there. Shane isn't immediately visible out here, but clearly he's around; the distinctive sci-fi looking black and silver hoverbike left at the end of the street is an obvious tell. Eventually he is emerging from one of the adjacent houses, engaged in animated conversation with another mutant, humanoid in shape but evidently made out of some kind of mesmerically shifting marbled plasma rather than actual Flesh. Possibly their flesh just Looks Like That. "... sounds like something you'd make the fuck up for some shitty Boy in the Striped Pajamas style novel bullshit." The voice of Shane's companion sounds thick and bubbly; distinctly words but with an undertone reminiscent of someone gargling at the back of their throat. "And yet!" Shane is gesturing towards the screen of his phone incredulously, before tucking it away into an inside pocket of his cut (worn today over a pale green and white button-down shirt embroidered with vines.) "I feel like I personally would've been more focused on the fucking Nazi thing than on the glasses but --" The burbling from his companion is hard to get a clear tone of, but the idle jostle of Shane's shoulder seems friendly enough before the other turns to wander back towards their stall and Shane turns to amble towards his bike. Tian-shin has not been spending nearly as much time in Freaktown as was her previous habit, since the Lassiter raid, but she does still make her rounds as one of the community's pro bono lawyers. She's dressed today in a sober charcoal pinstripe pantsuit over a pink mandarin collar blouse, a slim black suitcase and black chunky-heeled pumps. Her long black hair is coiled into a neat bun and held in place by a simple hair stick of pale green jade that matches the bangle on her left wrist. The timbre of her dress suggests she had court at some point today, but she has since taken leave of her client and is browsing the marketplace when Shane appears. She spots him at once but does not approach him until his companion has taken leave, and catches up to him about as he reaches his vehicle. She bows more deeply to him now than has been her habit, but still follows it, maybe a little self-consciously, with "Hi." She almost leaves it at that, before adding, "If you're not in a hurry--I'd like to talk to you." Shane is leaning up against the saddle of his bike, just plucking his phone back out to swipe out some messages. He glances up with an upward jerk of his chin, his phone clutched in the hand that he drops to rest on the seat. "Feel like I'm always in a hurry lately. Sure some of it can wait, what's up?" Tian-shin bows again, shallower this time, in thanks. "I'll try not to take up too much of your time." That said, she's hesitating again--not long. "I want to prospect with the Mongrels, if you would have me. I know it might not be the best time because you're so busy, but I do have a grounding in the culture, and..." Her brows furrow faintly. "...maybe a generally better-than-average idea what I'm getting myself into." Shane lets out a rough bark of a laugh, his eyes grown immensely wide. "Shit, April's half a fucking year away." But the thick ridge of his brow is furrowing after hers does, and he taps a claw lightly against the hard case of his phone. "Busy is a hell of a way of putting it." His head has turned, slightly, wide eyes shifted towards the charred asphalt. "... why." Tian-shin lowers her eyes, but it's not quite a bow this time. When she lifts them again it's to follow Shane's sightline. "I grew up under the protection of the tong..." She trails off and frowns again, deeper. "{In the keeping of the tong.}" In Mandarin, the word encompasses duty and care as well as shelter. "I saw the good that they did, but thought the way they did it obsolete. The Mongrels showed me why the tong is still relevant, and it's not the gambling." Her eyes narrow. "Okay, it's not not the gambling. But it's also mutual aid and community defense and justice our people cannot find under the law. And I've looked, long and hard." She clasps her hands together demurely. "I'll keep pushing the limits of lawful justice, but it's not enough. And yours is the kind of outlaw justice I want to do. I've thought about this very thoroughly, it's not just some biker wuxia crime family fantasy." Her hands unclasp and spread. "Although I do have a wuxia rep now, and you know I'd been looking to buy a motorcycle of my own. Granted, I could probably do that without joining a 1%er club..." "Shit, yeah, my dogs can definitely build you a motorcycle without signing up for Nazi gang wars." Shane rubs slowly at the back of his neck, his gills fluttering sharp and quick. "Why us, then? Tongs haven't gone anywhere." His mouth twitches up slightly. "-- neither has racism." Tian-shin nods seriously. "You're not pompous, dreary, and sexist? For all the good the tongs do, they're paternalistic--and patriarchal. They wouldn't even consider me if I weren't a hometown hero and the boss's daughter-to-be. It would be stifling at best, and I feel pretty stifled back home as it is." Her lips compress and her fingers play over the glossy curve of her bangle. "I love my people, however imperfect, but you are my people, too. I only realized recently that mutants are who I've chosen to fight for and stand with--in the courtroom and out, again and again." "What? I'm a classical violinist, I can be hell of pompous." Shane's tone is deeply affronted, though the amused ripple of his gills is less so. He's turning his enormous eyes back up to Tian-shin, long and considering. "Courtroom might be a problem, you know. You have not one but two real-ass jobs, the fuck you gonna do with your clients when we ring up and tell you to get your ass to church right now? The fuck you gonna do with your students? You know the culture. You put that vest on, then when we say jump, I don't give a fuck if you're in the middle of closing arguments, you say how fucking high. You've spent god knows how much time and money to make yourself a respectable-ass lady, how much do you want this --" The slow-flex sweep of his claws is indicating his own Mongrels patch, yes, but it's also flexing out towards the burned silhouette on the blacktop, to the boarded-up windows from the scorched houses beyond, "-- to be your entire life?" "I can work things out with Legal Aid, and if I can't do that with the school, I'll quit." Tian-shin shakes her head. "You know that I've hardly been teaching, anyway." Her eyes follow the gesture of Shane's claws this time, and she doesn't immediately answer the question. "Ion taught me the difference between respect and respectability. I made myself a respectable-ass lady because that's what my parents wanted of me. What I chose to study, long before law school, was wushu." She looks back at him. "And I know now the approval I win for being respectable isn't really respect. I can't unsee that, and I won't turn away from this." She nods at the scars of the Ne'ilah attack. "{I've always been a warrior, but I've never owned it.} I want to change that more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, and this is the way I do it." Shane considers this, long and unblinking as he studies Tian-shin. "Shit," he finally says, straightening and tucking his phone back away. He shakes his head, and though he's starting to hop back onto his bike the gesture seems more like surrender than rejection. The bike is quiet as it hums to life, his voice easily heard over its soft thrum. "Aiite, look. You find yourself one of us who wants to sponsor Ion's ol' lady, come find me again." The thrusters on his wheels glow bright as he lifts off and away.